


To the Left, to the Left

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-04
Updated: 2008-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:03:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Jensen thinks "Sam" should be left-handed.  Yeah, you read that right.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** My best friend liked this story - she said it was "character-driven." I dunno. Try it and see.

Jensen thought Sam should be left-handed. The character Sam, not Jared, per se. Sam was the thinking man’s nerd, the smart-hot guy that girls wanted to be with and guys wanted to be. Sam was a man on a mission, the reluctant hero, the archetypal balance between brains and bravery. Yeah, Jensen thought Sam should be left-handed. Since Sam was so bright, since Sam thought out-of-the-box, since Sam was, well, Sam. And so different from Dean. And just, well, the light and the darkness mixed into one colorful character. Jensen thought Sam should be left-handed- like that guy Jensen knew in high school, a guy named Reid. Reid had those long fingers and muscular forearms like Sam. When Reid held a pen in his left hand and wrote in his backwards-leaning cursive, he seemed to be writing a love letter, even when he was writing stupid algebra proofs. At least that’s how Jensen saw it. And Sam, well, Sam looked a little like Reid. Especially when faced with a mirror. That’s when Jensen figured out Sam should be left-handed. The diner scene (one of many.) But his particular “diner” set had a mirror, and in this particular scene, Sam was writing. Not typing on his laptop, per usual, but actually writing with a pen. And Jensen got a glimpse of Sam writing in a mirror. Seeing Sam writing left-handed really fleshed out the character for him. Really helped Jensen see something in Sam’s character that Kripke had been writing for over two years. Sam. And just that one glimpse during that one scene finally brought it all together for him. Somehow Sam became the beautiful ephemeral angel from the darkness.

 

The character, Sam. Not Jared, per se. 

 

So Jensen decided to think of Sam as left-handed. He just remembered the mirror in the diner scene whenever Sam was writing. He thought of the mirror again when Sam shot a gun in other scenes. He switched it up in his head, making his own left footfalls harder and louder than his right so as to compensate, to imagine that Sam was the one who made the change.

 

This made a difference in how “Dean” related to “Sam.” Jensen didn’t fully understand it, but it made the bond between them read stronger on screen. Kripke noticed. Kim noticed. And maybe even Jared noticed. The humor, too, was crisper, funnier. The quips and sarcasm were sharper. And then there was the added benefit of fewer takes because knowing Sam better meant Jensen also came to know Dean a little better, nailing the nuances of his own character. All because Jensen thought Sam should be left-handed.

 

This was artifice, of course. A way “in” to the characters. A poor-man’s guide to method acting. Jensen knew this. And he was smart enough to use it. Whatever worked. And this was working. Really, really well.

 

Maybe a little too well. Because, well, Jensen kind of had a crush on Sam. The character, Sam, not Jared, per se. Jensen couldn’t remember having a crush on a fictional character since…well, since Ariel the mermaid. Oh, and Jessica Rabbit. But Sam was no cartoon. Sam was a fully three-dimensional real fictional character. Who was left-handed. Or so Jensen envisioned. Which worked. But which created this crush out of nowhere that began making Jensen just a little uncomfortable. Not enough to throw off his performance, but just enough to give him that little twinge in the pit of his stomach when “Sam” was around. When “Sam” would push “Dean” against a wall with his strong hands (the left being stronger than the right, of course.) When “Sam” would give “Dean” the puppy-face. And when “Sam” would promise to save “Dean,” whatever it took, resting his strong left hand on “Dean’s” right shoulder. Yeah, Sam was one sexy sonofabitch. Not Jared, per se, but the character, Sam. And, oh hell, how was Jensen gonna fix this?

 

Well, his heart healed when he found out Jessica Rabbit wasn’t real. And jerking off to images of Ariel got old after Jensen got to touch a real girl. So, Jensen figured his little innocent crush on left-handed Sam would end as quickly and easily. 

 

Jensen was wrong. Left-handed Sam had emblazoned his heart, emboldened his own character, and was just simply distracting the hell out of him.

 

So Jensen continued to use his crush on imaginary left-handed Sam to give Dean a little more depth, a wistful air, a longing, a masked angst. Jensen couldn’t have left-handed Sam and “Dean” couldn’t stay with him after his year was up, either. So there was an understanding between the two. The character and the man. It was a draw. A truce. An uneasy combination of love and anger, push and pull. “I can’t have you, but I wish you knew I wanted you.” The character, Sam, not Jared, per se. 

 

And, well, left-handed Sam was hot. Really, really hot. And it just tied Jensen in knots. Damn, this delving into characters’ personalities shit was dangerous. Jessica Rabbit got nothing on left-handed Sam. Yeah, ‘cause, well, not only was left-handed Sam three or even four dimensional, but Jessica was only one. And Jensen never really had a thing for redheads, anyway. Brunettes were more his style. Like left-handed Sam. But Jessica had those boobs. But they weren’t real (in more ways than one – who would draw a cartoon, who was fake, by definition, and give her fake boobs, to boot?) And Sam was more real than a lot of “real” people in Hollywood could ever dream of being. And Jensen lately was dreaming (or day-dreaming) about left-handed Sam more than he was willing to admit to himself, even. More than he ever daydreamed about Jessica Rabbit. And hey, she was around when he was at that daydreaming age. So, what about that?

 

Jensen had to stop thinking so much. It made his head ache. 

 

So they went bowling, Jensen and Jared, on their night off, for something to do, something new and not involving hangovers at their 6:30 call the next morning. Yeah, bowling should get Jensen’s mind off of left-handed Sam. Watching Jared bowling should just set things right in his mind again. The bowling alley wasn’t busy for a Wednesday, and it thankfully wasn’t league night. They got the lane closest to the door, just in case they were recognized, which didn’t happen often in Vancouver. Jensen bowled the first set, got a spare, whooped a little, and suggested Jared just try and top that, thank you very much. Jared, all focus and finesse, stepped up and glided towards the line, smoothly sending the ball towards the pins with his left hand, earning a strike. Jared just smirked at Jensen, and said in a soft Texas drawl, “topped it.” Jensen, for his part, sat in one of those strange plastic orange bowling alley seats with his mouth hanging open, staring at Jared. Thinking, with his left hand. What the hell? Jensen did his best not to stare, not to show his intense interest, not to follow every move Jared made when up to bat, so to speak, not to smile too much during the first match, all the while trying to figure out why and how and what for and how to ask Jared why he bowls left-handed. Thusly, Jensen lost. Not counting the gutter balls, Jensen barely made a mark on the overhead scoreboard. Jared scored a 250. He was a great bowler. A great left-handed bowler. Huh. 

 

Jensen just came right out with it and asked, “So, um, Jared, why do you bowl left-handed?” Jared laughed, and explained that since his hands were big even when he was young, he had to pick a ball that didn’t weigh a ton, which also had big finger-holes. Only one such ball existed at the bowling alley in San Antonio when Jared was eight. And even then the finger holes barely fit his left hand, since, being right handed, the fingers on his right hand were larger than the fingers on his left. So, Jared learned to bowl left-handed. And it was the sexiest thing Jensen had ever seen. Jared bowling=sexy. Who knew? Well, really, it was Jensen’s left-handed fantasy Sam bowling left-handed that equaled sexy, right?

 

They called it quits after three games. Jensen stopped keeping score after the second, choosing instead to enjoy the view of his left-handed friend bowling with the grace and strength of a master. 

 

Jensen decided on the way home – no more bowling with Jared. 

 

So, the next weekend, Jensen and Jared played golf together for the first time. Jensen was a pretty good golfer, and he didn’t expect much from Jared, but there they were, on the first tee, and Jensen noticed Jared’s left-handed clubs. Jensen turned around and walked back to the truck, feigning a headache, and, of course, needing to get out of the son. Damn if Jared wasn’t being the most considerate friend, driving Jensen home and making sure he got a couple of Tylenol in his system before leaving. On the drive home, Jared explained the reason behind his left-handed golf swing. It seems Jared learned to golf with his uncle’s old clubs. And his uncle was left-handed. Jared just kept golfing that way, as it felt more natural to him.

 

Damn. Jensen just couldn’t get away from it. His fantasy was edging way too close to reality. How many things did Jared actually do with his left hand? That thought made Jensen just a little dizzy, just a little uncomfortable, and more than just a little bit…curious.

 

**************************************

 

Another awards show, another opportunity to buy new suits. Jensen and Jared decided to go with the same designer this time, just to take the whole “brother” thing up a notch (though Jensen thought it was a little, well, gay.) Jensen’s fitting went uneventfully. As well toned and fit as he was, he was well proportioned and easily fit into most designer’s suits with very few alterations. Several tailors had mentioned that he should try modeling, if this whole acting thing didn’t work out. He just smiled and remembered the days of catalog modeling he did and how boring that work was compared to this life. 

So, here he was, waiting on Gigantor (formerly known as Jared) to be measured and poked and prodded and somehow fitted into some designer’s suit meant to fit a normal sized human. Jensen watched surreptitiously as the tailor measured Jared’s inseam. “So, the gentleman dresses to the left?” the tailor asked. Jensen almost fell out of his chair.

 

*********************************************

 

Long day filming, even longer night filming. They were going on about 17 hours straight. Well, if by “straight” one meant an hour of filming followed by an hour of standing around waiting for the right lighting or the right props to be set up. Jensen was getting to that giddy place that follows exhaustion. Both too tired to play video games, Jared was listening to his ipod while Jensen tried to distract him. Tickling didn’t work. Making faces didn’t work. Pulling the ear buds out of Jared’s ears worked. Jensen put them on himself. The song playing was by Beyonce. Yeah, that one. Damn. He just couldn’t get away from it.

 

*********************************************

 

Jared injured his right wrist again. Not enough to need surgery (again,) but it ached like hell. He wore his soft cast while off set, and the doctor allowed him to go cast-free when shooting. Still, everyone was especially careful, especially during fight scenes and other rambunctious activities. Jensen felt particularly protective. He’d get ice packs and Advil for Jared whenever he needed them. When the aching got particularly severe, he’d help Jared with resistance exercises meant to relieve pain and strengthen his wrist. Jensen even found himself massaging Jared’s wrist, which was strange at first, but Jared didn’t complain, he just got that contented-cat look on his face. He all but purred. Jensen figured this wasn’t too gay, right? ‘Cause he was helping his friend, and all. Yeah, denial = a river in Egypt. Denial had gotten him this far thought, so why fight success? 

 

Until the day Jensen was happily massaging Jared’s wrist. Until the moment Jensen looked up to find Jared staring at him questioningly. Until Jensen realized he was no longer massaging Jared’s wrist, but that he had a death grip on Jared’s left hand, rubbing his fingers along Jared’s lifeline, mid-palm, just a little sweaty, but warm and nice, and holy hell, he was holding Jared’s hand. Shit.

 

Until Jared smiled. And didn’t let go when Jensen tried to pull away. Until Jared intertwined their fingers and wouldn’t stop smiling. Until Jared whispered, “Don’t worry, I’m ambidextrous.” 

 

Until Jensen wanted to know just exactly what that entailed.


End file.
